


Wanna Share?

by molo (esteefee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-30
Updated: 2006-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/molo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky and Hutch at the car show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanna Share?

**Author's Note:**

> Because of Mr. Britwizz and his enthusiasm for crinkle-cut fries, and for being such a good sport at SHareCon. Written on the plane ride on the way home.

_God, I hate this._ Hutch slouched in the passenger seat, already annoyed and unsure why, except he always felt this way when Starsky dragged him on one of his 'special trips'. This time it was to a classic car show in Pomona. Why Starsky would think Hutch would be interested in driving for an hour and a half in Sunday traffic to go look at old cars beat the life out of him.

Starsky made a joke about the car he'd recently bought for Hutch not being a candidate for the show, and Hutch grumbled an irritated comeback, regretting it a second later. He wasn't sure why he was so annoyed, except maybe it was because these long trips reminded him a little too heavily of his father's 'Sunday family outings,' and sitting squeezed in the back seat of the sedan with the ice chest and his bratty little sister, only they weren't allowed to squabble because 'Damn it, a man works hard six days a week he deserves a little peace and quiet on Sunday with a happy family.'

Never mind that his son would much rather be playing ball with his friends, or reading a book, or a thousand other activities that his father never bothered to ask him about. And Hutch had never had the courage to point out that the other six days of the week his father would come home to sink behind a newspaper or watch the old black and white all night long, drinking one after another of his special 'iced teas' and grunting occasionally, but ignoring said happy family for the most part. Until Sunday, of course, when just like clockwork they were supposed to be all smiles and joy and family togetherness.

"Hey, I bet they're going to the show," Starsky said, and Hutch shook himself out of his memories and let his eyes focus out the window. In front of them on the road was an antique Ford, the kind with a running board and wood paneling, the sort of car moonshiners might've used to run the State line. It had whitewall tires and an odd burgundy finish.

The color clashed horribly with the hood of the Torino, and Hutch smiled grimly to himself, wondering how much of this trip was about old cars, and how much of it was Starsky wanting a chance to show off his baby to other car enthusiasts. He probably wouldn't even notice Hutch was around.

Just like his dad, who never asked what the rest of the family wanted to do before dragging them off to some county fair, nauseating with the heavy smell of cotton candy and popcorn and the hay that made Hutch's allergies spring to life. His dad liked the fairs because he could talk combines and tractors and all the other large farm equipment he sold, lording it over the poor small farmers who would listen wistfully to spiels about gear they could never afford.

 _Starsky's not like that. Not even a bit._ No, as soon as they'd parked and found a small crowd gathered around an old hot rod, Starsky was sharing his enthusiasm and his excitement with the other guys, laughing with them, his hands making bigger and bigger gestures as he praised the power, the torque, the suspension. The talk went on and on, until Hutch's eyes were glazing over and all he heard was _wubba wabba wub-wab,_ but still he watched his partner, enjoying the excitement in his eyes and the way his hands flew.

Hutch lost Starsky soon after that in the press of enthusiasts, and so he wandered away, finding an exhibit about Bay City's Red Car light rail to absorb him for a while. He was surprised to learn that people could once get from the ocean to downtown in under twenty minutes, back before the automobile industry's 'independent motion' advertising campaign killed the rail dead.

But he was bored again and yawning as he leaned against a picnic bench by the exhibit. That's where Starsky's found him a few minutes later, offering a greasy box of ripple-cut French fries that made Hutch's stomach do an ugly flip.

"Wanna share? Crinkle-cuts are the best," Starsky said. "Hey, where did you get to? I wanted you to see—"

"See what? Just what the hell is there here you think I'd be interested in seeing, Starsky?" Hutch's irritation burst out before he could stop it.

Starsky's face fell. "Well, if you'd come see, then you'd see."

Hutch sighed, now not only bored and annoyed but also feeling like a class-A jerk. "I'm all yours," he said, apologizing with his eyes.

Starsky grinned and grabbed his arm, towing him past rows of cars on the beaten-down field until they reached a two-toned cream-and-red number with a big chrome grill and classic fins.

"It's a tomato Popsicle?" Hutch said, smirking. Starsky paid him back with a quick clip to his ear that Hutch didn't quite duck in time.

"No, dummy. It's a 1959 Galaxie. The very first one. It was like a...a parent...."

"A precursor?"

"Yeah, precursor to the one you had. You know, before yours...." Starsky shrugged apologetically.

"Before mine went bouncing down a canyon," Hutch said, his voice dry.

"Yeah. Yeah." Starsky gave him a sympathetic clap on the arm. Somehow, Hutch didn't think it was for the demise of his car. "Anyway, I thought you might like to see it."

Hutch made a show of walking around the car and looking at it closely, his hands in his back pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to touch it. It really was a beautiful car, made back when cars were supposed to have a lot of class. The front grill had a repeated pattern of insignias made to look like a row of stars, and could almost be an art piece. The license plate was bracketed by two bullet-shaped torpedoes, apparently purposeless but looking oddly elegant and deadly.

"Well?" Starsky was bouncing on the toes of his sneakers.

"It's...it's beautiful, Starsk. Really nice."

Starsky's grin flashed brighter than the chrome on the Galaxie's grill.

"This why you wanted me to come with you today? To see the first Galaxie?"

"'Course not," Starsky said dismissively. "We're here to see the first Torino."

Hutch groaned and followed Starsky across the field. "Seriously, Starsk. Why didn't you bring Huggy? Or Merle, for that matter?"

Starsky stopped and turned. "Merle? Why the heck would I bring Merle?"

The answer was so dumbfoundingly obvious that Hutch just stared at him.

Starsky tilted his head and frowned. "Merle ain't my best friend, is he? Who else would I want to share this important stuff with but you?"

Momentarily stunned, Hutch watched as Starsky turned and walked off again. Then Hutch stumbled to catch up, tripping on the uneven turf in his haste.

 _God, I'm such an idiot. Starsky didn't bring me here so I can look at old cars. He brought me so I can watch_ him _enjoy the old cars. He wants me to share it with him._

So Hutch watched Starsky run his hands over a mint green 1969 Torino convertible, his blue eyes gleaming.

And damned if Hutch didn't have a pretty good time.

  
_Fin._   


  


October 17, 2006  
Somewhere over West Virginia

**Author's Note:**

> The First Galaxie (precursor to the LTD):  
> <http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/44/1959_Ford_Galaxie.JPG/800px-1959_Ford_Galaxie.JPG>
> 
> The Torino (precursor to the Gran Torino):  
> <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:1969TorinoGTConv.jpg>


End file.
